


Unforgiving

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2019 [13]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Not Super Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Strong Language, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-22 09:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19664968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Rook can’t get over Eli.**Mind the Warnings.**





	Unforgiving

“If things were different, you’d be getting a twenty-four hour psychiatric hold at Hope County Memorial.”  
  
“That’s fair.”  
  
“You’re damn right it is. That’s what we do when people slit their fucking wrists.” Pratt sounded mad. “Why the fuck did you do this, Rook?”  
  
_Why?_  
  
For the first time in weeks, Rook wanted to laugh.  
  
“You know what I did.”  
  
Pratt frowned. “What?”  
  
It took a moment of Rook staring at him, but Pratt eventually got it. “Nothing the rest of us didn’t do under Jacob.” He didn’t look angry now- now he looked blank, hollow. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t do.”  
  
But she had.  
  
When she’d left the Wolf’s Den earlier, she could still smell the pyre they’d burned Eli on. _I’m sorry_ , Rook had thought as she wandered a little ways away from the bunker and sat down with the knife. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry._  
  
There would never be enough ‘sorrys’ to encompass how awful she felt about what she’d done to Eli.  
  
Incidentally, ‘sorry’ also wasn’t going to bring him back.  
  
So Rook sat down and took Jacob’s advice by trying to end it.  
  
As it happened, Pratt had noticed her departure and caught her before she could even try to cut the other arm.  
  
“Did you make friends with the people you killed before Jacob made you do it?” Rook pressed, because she was half-starved and exhausted and, according to Pratt, had a low-level fever, all of which removed her usually civil attitude. “Did you look them all in the eye and assure them you could be trusted, only to turn around and blow their brains out later? I did. Tammy said they should have left me in the chair where they found me, and she was right. They should’ve left me to die. Even Jacob said so. He said I hurt everyone I touch and I’d be better off dead.”  
  
“He’s full of it.” Rook jumped, hissed where the stitches tugged. Tammy was standing in the doorway; how much had she heard? “I told you, Eli knows it wasn’t you.”  
  
“Doesn’t change what I did.”  
  
“Jesus Christ, I’m _sorry,_ Rook. Shouldn’t have gone at you the way I did. _I_ know it wasn’t your fault.”  
  
“I thought you didn’t apologize for being harsh.”  
  
“I will if it’ll stop you from necking yourself.” Tammy crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Look, Pratt’s right: You’re not the first or only person Jacob wound-up and set loose on the rest of us. He did that to a lot of people, including some of our Whitetails. He could have done it to anyone, but he chose you. Probably because you killed his brother.”  
  
Had Jacob known that Rook had been the one to kill John? He’d never said as much, as least not while she was coherent. But it had to be a factor: She’d killed John, and he’d decided to make her pay for it in the worst way he could think of. Use the reputation she’d built up in Holland Valley to her detriment, render her a traitor and take out Eli all in one go.  
  
Still, it didn’t alleviate Rook’s guilt.  
  
Regardless of how it had happened, Eli was still dead by her hand.  
  
Pratt was done with the stitching. Rook had barely felt the pain- the emotional numbness she was feeling right now seemed to be bleeding into the physical. He picked up the bandages and started to wrap them around the stitches as Tammy observed from the doorway.  
  
“Hudson said you used to be a paramedic,” Rook remarked.  
  
Pratt stilled for a moment, and then resumed the bandaging. “Yeah, I did.”  
  
“Why’d you stop?”  
  
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Figured cops get laid more.” Rook responded with a weak chuckle, and he shook his head. “I’m one-hundred percent serious. I wanted to get laid and I figured cops got it more than paramedics. Uniforms, and all that.” He snorted. “I got to liking it and convinced myself that my reasons were nobler than that, but they weren’t. Jacob made me see that.”  
  
“Christ, the two of you need to not put any stock into anything Jacob-fuckin’-Seed said. The man was a stone-cold psychopath,” Tammy sighed. “So what if you joined the Sheriff’s Department to get laid? You did your job well enough that only a handful of people think you’re a douchebag, so that means you’re more popular than most cops are in this country.”  
  
Pratt snorted. “Decent point.” He finished the wrapping, taped the bandages down, and then looked Rook in the eye. “You and I, we’re attached at the hip now. You don’t go too far from me. Not until I’m convinced you’re not gonna try this again.”  
  
Rook plucked at her shirt a bit, overheated. That fever was probably starting to climb. “That’s a good idea.”  
  
Pratt turned to Tammy. “She tries to leave the bunker-”  
  
“Wheaty and I will stop her, don’t you worry.” She pushed off the doorframe. “Get some sleep, the both of you. You look like shit.”  
  
“Thanks, Tammy,” Pratt called, and Rook couldn’t tell if it was a sarcastic response to being told that he looked like shit, or if it was a genuine thank you for Tammy’s assistance and reassurances. “You- bed, now.”  
  
On a normal day, before any of this bullshit with Eden’s Gate had gone down, Rook might have resented being ordered around like a child. _He’s right to be nervous,_ she considered as she hobbled over to the bunk in the corner of the room. _I’m not sure if I’ll do it again. I feel so shitty, about Eli and Eden’s Gate and- everything. Everything is shit. I feel like shit._ She flopped down in the bunk, maneuvering her arm so it wasn’t trapped under her body.  
  
Pratt was doing something with the sink- Rook could hear the water running. He shut it off, walked over to the bunk. “Turn over.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Turn over.”  
  
Rook obeyed. Pratt was standing beside her with a wet cloth in hand. “For your forehead, or the back of your neck. Whatever you prefer.” He wandered back over to the couch and dropped down onto it, draping an arm over his eyes. “You need anything, you let me know. Try to sneak out of the bunker and I’ll cuff you to your bunk.” He only sounded half-serious, but Rook was inclined to think that was just Pratt. Chances were, he meant every word.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Rook didn’t want to leave.  
  
She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to anyways.  
  
She just wanted to sleep and forget.  
  
-End


End file.
